


if you don't know struggle then you don't know love

by annabeth_writes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Relationship, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: Prompt: Ned deals with realising Jon and Sansa’s feelings for each other are not what they should be.





	if you don't know struggle then you don't know love

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt I received on tumblr. You can send me one at snowsinthenorth.
> 
> I’ve been re-familiarizing myself with asoiaf history and recently stumbled across Jaehaerys I again so this is loosely based off of his marriage to Alysanne. Also Jojen Reed can’t mind his own damn business and Ned really needs a drink. I hope that you like it!
> 
> Title: Carry You - Jeffrey James

It was hard to pinpoint when it began. It seemed to change overnight, though he knew that something had to be brewing beneath the surface for a long time for such a drastic change to take place. Just after her ninth nameday, Sansa went from spurning Jon to taking his arm in the courtyard, allowing him to escort her, or whispering with him in the godswood, their heads bowed close together.

It upset Catelyn. Ned didn’t have to speak to his wife to know it was true. She had a closeness with Sansa, the most southron of her children. Yet it was hard for her to watch their eldest daughter sit so closely with the boy she resented so much. Another thing for Ned to feel guilty about, for he only fostered the animosity between them with his lies.

As much as he wanted to comfort his wife, he could not say that it was anything but a relief. Jon relished in his closeness with Arya and Robb, but there was something about his demeanor when Sansa gave him her attentions. The heaviness in his eyes seemed to fade away when she smiled and his shoulders eased when she spoke to him, as if she lifted away a burden that did not belong on the shoulders of so young a boy.

It may have been selfish, merely a balm to his guilt-ridden heart, but Ned did not want to tear them apart.

By the time he realized he should, it was far too late.

*****

On Sansa’s eleventh nameday, northern lords gathered to celebrate the oldest daughter of Winterfell. She relished in all of the attention, her smile a fixture upon her face as she received every gift and well wish with a gracious acceptance. When the feast ended and Sansa ate every lemoncake she could, the floor was cleared to make way for dancers as the finest musicians that Ned could find began playing each of her favorite songs.

Sansa allowed herself to be escorted by any man who offered their hand. Robb escorted her several times, their similar hair gleaming in the torchlight as they spun about the floor. Ned himself danced with her, as well as a delighted Bran and a few of the lords and their sons. It wasn’t until she coaxed a very reluctant Jon out with both of her hands grasping his and a pleading look upon her face that he heard a sharp intake of breath beside him.

Catelyn seemed happy all night, nearly as pleased as her daughter at how it all came together. Now she frowned, a deep line forming between her brows as she watched Sansa lead Jon about in a simple dance, color high in her cheeks and the faintest flush upon his. Ned knew why his wife disliked the sight of them but as he watched them dance far more gracefully than he might have expected, he knew that anyone might be forgiven for looking twice.

It was like seeing a younger version of himself and Cat, for all that Sansa favored her mother and Jon favored his. They complemented each other well, a thought that never occurred to him until now. For the first time, as he watched their eyes never stray from one another, he felt the oddest sensation of worry rise within him.

There was no reason to be concerned, not really. Sansa stood no closer to Jon than she did to Robb and even if she did, they were young and innocent. There was no intent in their actions. No hidden motives. They were children. Brother and sister, for all anyone knew.

Yet he could not help but worry if a man’s nature was not so easily subverted. If a father that Jon would never know managed to pass onto him a rebellious spirit. A love for unattainable women. Even more, he wondered if Sansa possessed a hint of wolf blood after all. For the smile upon her face looked more like Lyanna than he’d ever seen before.

There was no true reason to worry, but Ned did so all the same.

*****

“She is too young,” Catelyn argued, her hands held out in supplication as she stood before the desk in his solar. “It is far too soon to consider marriage petitions. We haven’t even done so for Robb.”

Ned sighed, putting aside the letters that he’d been considering.

“It is not unheard of,” he said, meeting his wife’s alarmed gaze. “Lyanna was betrothed to Robert at ten.”

Catelyn dropped her hands, a displeased look crossing her face. He knew it was not a good comparison, yet it was all that he had to offer.

“Girls in the North are betrothed before their brothers. it does not mean that she will be married immediately. We will have a few years yet to prepare ourselves,” he assured her, rising to his feet.

She watched warily as he rounded the desk to take her hands in his own.

“Sansa would thrive in the south,” Catelyn said reluctantly, glancing to the letters before looking back at him. “But I do not want her to go so far.”

“Nor do I,” Ned said, refusing to think of sending one of his children so far if he could help it.

A good northern house would do. Close enough that they could call upon their daughter and her husband to visit but far enough that his fears could be assuaged. For six moons had done nothing to ease his worries. Sansa and Jon seemed to grow closer with every day that passed, some secret connection drawing them to one another.

He found himself on the edge of questioning them many times, wanting to know exactly what changed. Yet Ned somehow knew that they would evade his queries. Even Robb and Arya seemed confused by it and he’d heard of how his younger daughter’s frustration boiled over, each scathing word aimed at her sister, causing more shouting fights between the girls than he could count.

“Let us look, then,” Catelyn said, reaching out to gather the letters. “We shall decide on a proper suitor for our daughter together.”

Ned did not challenge her in this, knowing that she would want a good match as much as he did. He could only hope that this solved the unspoken problem. For he did not know what else to do.

*****

When a red-faced Septa Mordane met him as he stepped out of the Great Hall, weary from hours of petitions from noblemen and commonfolk alike, Ned let out a sigh.

“What has Arya done now?” he asked.

The woman tilted her chin up, inhaling deeply before a pained look crossed her face. She almost seemed reluctant to speak, which was odd. Usually the septa was all too ready to speak out against Arya’s misbehavior.

“It was not Arya, my lord,” she said, bowing her head.

His eyes grew wide with surprise. Ned couldn’t remember the last time that Sansa gave Septa Mordane trouble, if she’d ever done so.

“What happened?”

“Your daughters were working on their stitching under my supervision along with Jeyne Pool and Beth Cassel. Those girls can be rather silly sometimes, but I set them straight if they overstep. I saw no harm in what they spoke of until Sansa reacted rather... strongly.”

Ned gave her an impatient look, waiting to hear exactly what upset his elder daughter so much that it brought the septa running straight to him.

“They spoke of Daryn Hornwood, Lord Stark,” Septa Mordane said warily.

It was all that he had to hear. As soon as news of the Hornwoods and their impending visit spread through the castle, people began whispering of their intent. Especially when they learned that young Daryn would accompany his father. Catelyn convinced him that they should speak to Sansa before the rumors reached her ears but it seemed that they were too late.

“She shouted rudely at the two girls, telling them to quiet themselves with no trace of the lady I know in her demeanor. I gave her a sharp reprimand but she did not apologize. She ran from the room, my lord, giving no care for her lessons or my attempts to call her back.”

Ned reached up, pinching at his nose before nodding his head, knowing that this was partially his own fault.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“The godswood, I believe,” Septa Mordane said, stepping aside that he could pass her.

He ignored her curtsy, striding forward with determination in every step. Ned knew that Catelyn wanted to be there when Sansa learned the truth but this was simply something that he had to explain. There was no time to ease their way into it. Not when she already knew. Not when she reacted so strongly to the news. 

It should not have surprised him that she wasn’t alone in the godswood yet he still drew up short at the sight of Jon’s arms wrapped protectively around her, her face buried in his shoulder. The boy’s head lifted at the sound of Ned approaching and something flitted across his face. A mix of emotions. Anger. Annoyance. Guilt. Defensiveness.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ned asked, keeping his voice as steady and gentle as he could manage.

Sansa pulled away from Jon with a gasp, looking at him with glassy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Her lips parted as she glanced from him to Jon and back before pulling away and smoothing out her skirt.

“Lord Father,” she said, sinking into a curtsy.

Jon bowed to him, murmuring the same.

“You should be in the training yard, Jon,” Ned said, moving closer to them. “And you should be in your lessons with your septa.”

Sansa’s stared at him for a long moment before her eyes narrowed at him. She knew why he was there and what he knew.

“You should have told me of my betrothal,” she said, the words passing her lips in a quick rush.

Her face drained of color and she glanced away from him nervously, realizing that she’d erred in speaking so plainly with her father. Ned could not quite believe it himself, staring at her with no words upon his lips. He truly could not think of what to say.

“Sansa-” Jon said quietly, his hand lifting to clasp around her arm.

Her eyes darted to him and the color returned to her cheeks just as quickly.

“He’s lied to us,” Sansa hissed, just loud enough that Ned could hear. “All these years, he’s...”

She trailed off at the cutting look that Jon gave her, as if remembering where she stood and who stood there with her. They both looked to him, a similar look of alarm on their faces. Ned stepped closer to them, his heart racing not with anger, but with fear. They could not know. There was no chance of it. Yet what else could she be speaking of?

“What do you mean by that, Sansa?” Ned asked, his voice low and tight.

She stared at him warily, fear flitting through her eyes as she twisted her hands together nervously.

“I-I had a dream,” Sansa admitted hesitantly, glancing to Jon.

The boy looked almost ready to run, as if this was far from what he wanted.

“A dream?” Ned repeated, glancing between them.

She nodded slowly, her eyes darting around as if she sought her own escape. Nearly three and ten and she had never looked so fearful in the presence of her father. It was as if she bore the weight of the world in that moment. Ned hated seeing such a burden upon her, though he suspected the nature of it.

“I saw a boy,” she said, her eyes closing for a moment as if she envisioned the dream in her mind. “He wore grey and green, the colors of House Reed.”

Ned inhaled sharply at the house name, almost able to smell the blood clinging to the air. The feel of a sword in his hand. Howland Reed at his side, vowing to keep the day’s events to himself. Sansa’s eyes opened, fixing upon him without flinching as her voice grew stronger when she spoke once more.

“He told me about Jon.”

*****

Ned sat before the fire in his solar, head in his hands as he grappled with everything that happened that day. His daughter, receiving prophetic dreams at nine namedays that told her of the past more than the future. His nephew, aware of his true parentage for years. The one secret that Ned tried to keep, laid out in the open between Sansa and Jon and yet never spoken to anyone else. It explained everything. He could not blame his daughter for telling Jon, though she admitted that it took several dreams of a similar nature for her to finally tell him. What else was she meant to do? Keep such a burden to herself at such a young age? Jon bothered him even more. The boy knew all that time that Ned deceived the entire world, including him. Was it any wonder that he sought comfort in the sister that told him the truth?

No, not sister.

Cousin.

Their knowledge of the truth concerned him even more. The closeness between them could not be so easily dismissed, even if they were still young. He could remember his older brother at that age. Headstrong and wild. Refusing to bend to the will of others, even his own father. And Lyanna, beautiful and willful. Incredibly protective of those she deemed worthy of it.

And Rhaegar, willing to tear apart a realm for his love.

Would his son do anything less for his own?

Ned knew that he could not alter his path. Though Sansa and Jon knew the truth, he could not encourage what brewed between them. The defiance it fostered. The danger. He would speak to them, though they seemed to understand the gravity of the truth without his interference. Secrecy was of the utmost importance and they had to go on with life. Yes, Ned would do what it took to protect the both of them. Jon would remain a Snow and Sansa would one day be known as Lady Hornwood.

He knew that it was necessary.

He knew that it must happen.

Yet he did not know that Sansa and Jon had quite another path in mind.

*****

“Are you certain about this?”

Sansa glanced up, meeting Jon’s questioning gaze. She knew his concerns. A part of her even shared his reluctance. They were young. Their life had barely begun and now they were taking steps to alter it rather drastically. This decision would most certainly change everything. He was right to ask if she was certain, just as she was right to nod her head without another moment of hesitation.

“I am,” Sansa said, squeezing his hand that was clasped around her own. “Are you?”

“I fear what may happen after this night,” Jon admitted, glancing around as if he expected someone to leap out and demand what they were doing in the godswood in the dead of night. “But I do not fear this.”

His eyes returned to hers and she could not help but smile, turning to place her other hand upon his cheek. Sansa couldn’t feel his warm skin beneath the glove she wore but her heart still fluttered when he leaned into her touch. This was so very dangerous. She could understand that, even at her young age.

But there was something romantic about it as well. Sansa could almost hear a song in her head, written about this day. Anyone else might think her foolish but she knew that her thoughts were safe with Jon. They had been ever since she told him the truth of her dreams. For years, they had only one another to confide in.

That sort of experience changed someone. She may have been young but she felt far older than her age. The boy that visited her dreams told her far more than the truth of Jon’s parentage. His warnings were grave, telling her what would transpire if she did not change her path, and the paths of others. Her father, her mother, Robb, Arya, Bran.

But Jon most of all.

So here they were, heeding the warnings of the strange boy. Sansa had never felt more sure about something in her life. She knew that Jon had his reservations but she knew that he trusted her more than his own fears. It was a powerful feeling, yet one that she treasured. For as much affection as he felt for her, it was returned in equal measure.

“Are you ready?” Sansa asked, her heart leaping in her chest at her own words.

Jon nodded his head, lifting his own hand to press over hers.

“I am.”

They pulled away from one another after another few moments, continuing on through the trees to the heart of the godswood. The great weirwood that loomed over them. The red leaves fluttered in the wind at the bark looked even paler in moonlight. Sansa and Jon did not stop their approach until they stood directly beneath it, their hearts fluttering quickly and their hands trembling.

“I do not know what to do,” Jon admitted.

Sansa glanced his way, remembering that he had never seen such a ceremony before. She’d attended a few, as Lord Stark’s daughter, but his supposed bastard was never allowed to witness it.

“We present ourselves before the gods,” she said, her voice hushed. “Then you ask who gives me away and I answer.”

Jon nodded, though the look on his face told her that he did not quiet understand exactly what to say. It wasn’t the custom, but Sansa knew she would have to speak first. She could only pray that the old gods did not take offense to the odd ceremony.

“Ask me who comes before the gods,” she urged him.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat before gripping her hand tighter and opening his mouth to speak.

“Who comes before the gods?”

“I, Sansa of House Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Catelyn Tully-Stark,” Sansa pronounced solemnly, keeping her eyes fixed upon the face of the tree. “Who comes before the gods?”

Jon did not answer for nearly a minute, his breaths coming out in short bursts. Just when she feared that he would call an end to it, his voice filled the air.

“I, Jon of House Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Westeros, and Lyanna Stark-Targaryen.”

Sansa pressed her lips together, emotion welling within her. They were truly doing this. It was almost unbelievable, though she knew it to be true. It was almost exhilarating.

“Who gives you away, Sansa of House Stark?” Jon asked, glancing her way.

She looked back at him, seeing the same excitement shining in his eyes.

“I give myself in the presence of the old gods of the First Men, willingly and without threat, to Jon of House Targaryen.”

The smallest of smiles pulled at his lips, as if he couldn’t quite believe it either. Sansa turned to face him fully, reaching out to take his other hand. They stared at one another, the godswood falling silent as if the very world stood still to hear their vows.

“One flesh,” Sansa said, nodding at him to repeat it.

“One flesh.”

“One heart.”

“One heart.”

“One soul.”

“One soul.”

“I am his and he is mine, from this day until my last day.”

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until my last day.”

Sansa’s heart seemed to soar in her chest, a smile breaking out onto her face that she could not contain as tears pricked at her eyes.

“You may-” her voice hitched and she inhaled deeply, willing herself to remain under control. “You may now cloak the bride and take her under your protection.”

She had no maiden cloak to show her house colors and Jon only had his practical one, but it mattered little to them. Sansa allowed him to shed her dove grey cloak and shivered as he placed his own on her shoulders, reaching around to clasp it at her throat. Jon did not step away, turning to breathe her in as they stood there as one, wed before the gods of their ancestors.

“Now what?” he whispered into her ear.

“We kiss to seal our union,” Sansa said, turning her head to look at him.

Jon hesitated before slowly moving to face her once again. As his hands lifted to cup her face, she felt a warm flush of anticipation fill her. The kiss he bestowed upon her lips was brief and sweet, enough for the both of them. When he pulled away, she met his eyes with stars in her own.

“We are wed,” Sansa breathed out.

He grinned at her, looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him.

“That we are.”

Sansa let out a light giggle, leaning into him to press her forehead to his shoulder. Jon’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close for a long stretch of time.

“We will wait to consummate it,” he said, his voice suddenly solemn. “You are far too young.”

She lifted her head to look up at him, a curious relief unfurling in her chest. She was not ready, she knew that. In truth, neither of them were. His words only made her love for him grow.

“Thank you,” Sansa choked out before throwing herself into his arms once more.

Though it wasn’t exactly like the songs she adored, she knew that Jon was far more than everything she wanted. He was everything that she needed, which was far better than any romantic tale.

*****

“Sansa and Jon are nowhere to be found.”

The words stirred the entire castle into a frenzy. Every room was searched. Every bed overturned and every corner peered into. By the time the two walked out of the godswood, standing close as they dared with Jon’s cloak still wrapped about Sansa’s shoulders, fear had turned to anger that was focused directly at them.

“Where in the seven hells have you been?” Robb demanded of them, though his eyes were fixed upon Jon.

Ned usually would have reprimanded such speech, especially with Arya so close, but his own anger pulsed through him so hot that he could not bring himself to care. Sansa looked at Jon with wide eyes, fear taking hold on her face. Whatever they’d been up to, it was up to the boy to speak of it. Her tongue seemed to have sealed to the roof of her mouth. Jon looked straight at Ned, reaching down to twine his hand with Sansa’s.

The defiance in his grey eyes struck the Lord of Winterfell directly in the chest and somehow he knew. He knew and yet he could not believe that they’d done something so foolish. Ned wanted to whisk them away, to speak of this in private. Servants knew well enough to keep their distance from the family but the others stood far too near. Rickon would not understand but the rest would. He could not let them hear. He could not-

“We wed one another.”

Jon’s words seemed to cast a spell over them all. They stared and stared in disbelieving silence. Arya’s scoff broke it, though there was a stricken look upon her face. Rage brewed in Robb’s who looked about ready to punch the boy he thought to be his brother. Bran looked between them all with confusion. And Cat... Cat’s face was impossible to decipher. She was the first to speak, turning to Ned slowly.

“You will remove him from this castle,” she said in a low voice.

“Catelyn...” Ned sighed.

“You will. You will or I will make it happen myself.”

“No.”

It was not Ned who spoke. Their eyes all settled upon the source of the single word. Sansa, who stood in front of Jon as if to protect him from whatever words would fly his way. For she knew well enough that he would be blamed for it all. She was too young and a girl at that. Jon should have been smarter. He should have been more responsible. He should have known what would result from this.

But there Sansa stood, the same defiance taking hold in her Tully eyes. Her hand still held Jon’s, extended behind her without sign of letting go. She looked older than her years. Far older than she should have. As much as he hated the sight of it, Ned could not help but admire her in that moment. A wolf defending her pack. As natural as can be.

“It is not what you think,” Sansa said, her eyes flitting between them all. “ _He_  is not what you think.”

“What do you mean?” Robb finally managed to say, his voice dark with anger.

She looked at Ned, daring him to speak. Challenging him to finally tell the truth.

“My solar,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Now.”

*****

A storm raged within the walls of Winterfell that day. Accusations flew, tears fell, and shouts rang off of stone walls. Servants and councilors steered clear of the lord’s solar unless called upon to bring food or drink. At the end of it all, every one of them knew the truth, apart from Rickon. Even the angriest of them knew why the secret must be kept.

And they all knew that another must join it.

For no one could know of the marriage that took place. Even as Catelyn demanded that Ned declare it null, he did not do so for the desperate looks that Sansa and Jon sent his way. He knew now that there was nothing to be done. He waited too long to see the danger in their connection. They wouldn’t be dissuaded, though they would certainly learn the consequences of their actions.

“You will not be wed to Lord Daryn,” he said as they sat around his solar, watching the visible relief cross Sanas’s face. “But you have shown that you cannot make rational decisions when you are together.”

Jon straightened where he sat next to his new wife, his eyes growing wide as a protesting noise passed Sansa’s lips.

“What will you do?” Jon asked.

Everyone else stayed silent, their eyes on Ned as they awaited his judgement. He considered it carefully, hating his position in that moment. As much as he wanted to afford them every joy in the world, and the happiness of a marriage of choice, winter was coming and it was clear that they did not heed the words as they should have. Nor did they anticipate the effect of their decisions.

“I will write to the Smalljon Umber,” he decided, the idea occurring to him. “He is in need of a squire.”

“No!” Sansa cried, leaping to her feet.

Jon didn’t say anything, his face growing pale.

“You can’t!” Arya complained, horrified at the thought of Jon going away to the Last Hearth for years.

“Quiet,” Ned said, giving them both as stern a look as he could muster. “Foolishness will be met with consequences. You gave no thought for your futures when you made this decision.”

“We did,” Sansa said, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her porcelain cheeks. “Please, Father, please do not do this.”

He rose to his feet, glancing at Catelyn only to be met with a look of stone. She blamed him for this, that much was clear.

“You have not legitimized your marriage,” he said carefully, looking back at Sansa and Jon. “Be thankful that I do not declare it null before you have the chance. You will be parted until I deem it wise to reunite you.”

Sansa let out a miserable sob, turning to bury her face in Jon’s shoulder as he stood to embrace her. Every single eye in the room fixed upon them, slowly grasping the reality of the situation. In a single day, everything changed for House Stark. In a single day, everything changed for all of Westeros.

*****

The day that Jon left for the Last Hearth, none could bring themselves to smile. A dark cloud hung over the castle, souring the mood of every man, woman, and child within the walls. Every member of House Stark gathered to see him off, even the Lady of Winterfell, though she kept her distance. Sansa stood at a distance from her siblings, her face pale and drawn as she wordlessly watched Jon prepare his horse.

He bid goodbye to Robb first, stiffly shaking his hand before drawing him into a hug. It did not matter what anger still lingered. It did not matter that Jon was his cousin in truth. They were brothers in every way that mattered and they would not separate with a bitter taste lingering in their mouths. Jon moved to Bran and Rickon next, embracing them both and assuring them that he would tell them of all his adventures when he returned.

Then Arya, who threw herself into his arms and gripped him tightly. They did not say a word to one another. They did not need to. An unspoken agreement passed between them. That they  _would_  see each other again. Then he moved away, walking to his uncle with his head held high. Jon would not cower. Not even as he accepted his punishment.

“My lord,” he said, bowing low.

Ned reached out, clasping an hand on his shoulder once he rose.

“Care for yourself, Jon,” he said, staring into his eyes. “No matter what, you are my blood. You will return here one day.”

Jon swallowed his anger and nodded, pulling away and turning his eyes upon the last person that he had to bid goodbye. Sansa looked as if she’d run any second, if only to keep from watching him leave. Yet she allowed him to approach her, her shoulders shaking and her breaths quickening as she blinked against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

“We will see each other again,” Jon promised in a soft voice meant only for her, reaching up to cup her cheek. “I promise, my little wife.”

Sansa nodded, pressing her lips together as she kept her sobs at bay.

“Father-” she managed, shuddering at the high, reedy sound of her own voice. “Father says that I-I will be permitted to write to you.”

Jon nodded, forcing a smile upon his face.

“I will treasure every word and respond when I can, though I cannot promise that mine will be as fair as yours,” he assured her.

Sansa did not smile, squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling deeply to calm herself. Jon took the chance to press a kiss to her forehead, knowing that he could not do anything more. He lingered far longer than he should have but a part of him dared any man to pull him away. When he finally stepped back, Sanas opened her eyes and fixed him with a pleading look.

As much as Jon wished that he could submit to her and stay, there was no true choice. He might not have been Ned Stark’s son, but the man was still his liege lord and he was duty bound to obey him. Taking his last look at his family and his home, he nodded to himself before mounting his horse, ready to be escorted by the younger Jon Umber himself.

Jon tried not to look back as they rode through the gates but it felt far too impossible to restrain himself. As he glanced over his shoulder, a cool wind whipped Sansa’s hair from her shoulders, giving him one last look at his beautiful wife. Then the gates shut behind them and he continued on, not knowing that the Stark family stood fixed in their spots long after his departure.

Sansa did not look at a single one of them, drawing the cloak that Jon left behind tighter around her shoulders as she stared at the gates. Robb drew Bran into his side and Arya hid her face from the rest of them, refusing to let them see her tears. Catelyn lifted Rickon into her arms as she walked to her husband’s side.

“What will we do?” she asked, knowing that this was another trial they would have to face together, no matter how furious she was with him. “When he returns?”

Ned did not so much as move for several long moments before finally looking her way.

“I do not know,” he admitted, glancing past her at Sansa before meeting her eyes again. “I will need help.”

Catelyn stared at him for a long stretch of time before nodding her head.

“Yes, I suppose you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


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